Cheek to Cheek
by respektor
Summary: 62 years in the future, Edward returns to Forks to watch a lonely, decrepit old woman putz around her house and wait to die.
1. Chapter 1

The rain came down in torrents. Maybe it was a sign, warning me to stay right where I am. But, of course, once I thought of this, it was too late to turn back.

I know the area well. The house is fairly isolated, bordering on the mossy green forest, and a few trees are scattered sporadically throughout the yard. The yard was in much better condition when Charlie was alive, but now the grass and shrubbery have grown unkempt.

Only one light was on in the house. It was the kitchen light. I barely knew the woman at the table.

It had been 62 years, but I hadn't expected her to look so incredibly _old_. The skin hung off her bones in loose folds. It was soft and wrinkled looking…like much cured leather. Her hands shook slightly as she brought a spoon to her lips. Her hair had turned completely white. It was, thank God, not in the classic old lady poodle style, but was perched precariously on her head in a thick bun.

Never had I seen such a pathetic figure. She sat at the kitchen table with a small bowl of soup. She looked down at something on the table, and I noticed something.

A tear.

One, single tear inched its way down her face, getting caught up in a thick crease in her face next to her nose. She stood, slowly, joints stiff with rheumatism, and shuffled from the room, turning off the light as she went.

I waited a minute until I heard the bed springs creak. I eased open the back door and sat down in the recently vacated chair. What had made my beautiful Bella cry?

And then I saw. On the table, on top of the newspaper, was a picture. A picture of us, together. I allowed myself a small smile; she had found my hideout under her floorboards.

From upstairs, I heard a muffled sob.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN**: I forgot in the last chapter, but anyway, here's the disclaimer. I am not Stephenie Meyer, because if I was, I would steal Robert Pattinson away and never give him back.

I can't wait any longer. I have to see her. I can no longer be satisfied with just _spying_ on her. I have to talk with her, see what happened, where my plan went wrong.

It is midday. It is, once again, overcast, but not raining. Bella is sitting in the living room. Not reading, not sleeping, just sitting. I take a deep, albeit unnecessary, breath, and knock on the door. How many times had I done this in the past? I would stand here, for appearance's sake, as I heard Charlie heave himself out of a chair and amble to the door, cursing me in his mind the whole while. Oh, how I long to have those days back.

I can hear Bella stand, her slippers making a raspy shuffling noise on the wooden floor. She opens the door and looks at me. She doesn't appear surprised. Her eyes are still the same; big, brown, beautiful. They seem to bore into my soul.

"What are you doing here so early?" She beckons me inside.

I step in, dazed. What? I was expecting her to tell me to go away, to hate me, to do_ something_ besides _expect_ me.

She plopped down into the chair she had recently vacated, and motioned to the sofa near her. I stood numbly.

"You don't usually appear until later; I wasn't expecting you so soon. Is there a special occasion?" She looked up at me alertly, hands clasped in her lap.

"Um." Was all I could come up with. I inwardly beat myself up. I've been waiting to see her for sixty two excruciatingly long years, and all I could say was 'um'?

"Bella? It's me, Edward," I wasn't sure if she was going senile or not…

She laughed. "I know who you are, silly, its just that I was a tad surprised. Like I said, you don't usually show up until I'm ready to go to bed. You sing to me then."

And then it clicked. She mustn't think I am real. She must think I am some sort of hallucination.

I took a step toward her chair and kneeled down, taking her hands in mine.

"Bella, love, it really is me. I'm not a hallucination. It's _me_." She pulled her hands away from mine.

"Don't say that! I've spent too long becoming accustomed to this." She was starting to get hysterical. She put her hands over her ears and rocked back and forth. "Don't tell me that! Stop it!" Tears streamed down her face and she gasped for air.

And just as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. She sat straight and smiled serenely, wiping the last drops of moisture from her face.

"Can't we just go back to the way things were? You sing, I fall asleep? Isn't that good enough?"

I nodded mutely.

Before she could protest, I picked her up in my arms and carried her up the stairs to her room. I placed her down gently on the bed. The room was the same. The walls were the same light blue color, the windows were still covered with lace curtains, now yellow with age. She pulled the comforter up to her chin, sighing in contentment.

I lay down next to her and took the pins out of her hair, humming softly all the while. She was asleep within minutes. I was such a fool. How could I have left her?

**AN:** I would like to thank those who have, thus far, reviewed: Catchmeedward33, xliquidxpainx, As if he never existed, Mrs.EdwardCullen1007, and LittleMissCullen. Also, all those who read the first chapter…if I knew who you were I'd thank you individually too!


	3. Chapter 3

**AN:** I feel kind of bad for not having updated in the past few days, but it is the dreaded finals week. However, Thursday and Friday I have half days and then…WINTER BREAK!!! Yes! Anyway, the reason this is rather short is that I have finals (eep!) my brother is home from college, I'm reading an amazing book, and I just can't focus on anything! So consider yourself lucky.

A dull grayish light filtered through the lace paneled curtains, startling me from my absent minded musings. Bella stirred next to me, bones creaking. She stretched and yawned, her beautiful face crinkling.

She sat up and groaned. I watched for a moment, just reveling in the beauty of the way her face caught the light, and the way her chest gently rose and fell.

"What's the point, Edward?"

I could only stare blankly at her.

"I mean, I wake up, eat breakfast, read or garden, have lunch, read or…" she paused, "reminisce, eat dinner, then repeat it all the next day. Have you wondered _why_ God put us down here?"

I twirled her hair with my finger, staring off into space. "Is there even a God?"

Her reaction was surprising. She glared reproachfully at me and pulled away from my grasp. "Of course there is a God. Don't say that. It's all I have to live for…"

"Don't _you_ say that," I countered. It was awful to see what she had become in my absence; this shell of a person who just _existed_ couldn't be my Bella. "You have plenty to live for."

She scoffed, climbing out of the bed and into her slippers. "Like what, pray tell?"

I paused, and my voice became softer. "For me, Bella."

She was silent, and I thought for a moment that she hadn't heard me. But when I looked up, I saw her eyes swimming with tears. She turned away and her reply was muffled and slurred.

"I don't even know if you're real."

It was later, mid-afternoon at least. I hadn't really bothered looking at a clock. In fact, I didn't see a single clock, other than the one on the oven, in the whole house. If I wanted to be psychological, I could guess that Bella had a slight problem with the time…or the lack, thereof, that she had left.

She was out in the front yard, gardening, she said, thought it looked more like she was trying very hard to dismember a large mountain of soil. I sat on the step, watching her, thinking mostly. It was adorable the way she put so much effort into 'gardening'.

I was wondering, at this particular moment, what I would do when she died. Well, not wondering, per se, as much as mapping out my plan. There was no way I would live here when she…ceased to be. That was ridiculous. I suppose I would have to go to Italy.

Ah, Italy, and all of the implications that one word had. What would I have to do to incur the Volturi's wrath? How drastic would it have to be? Maybe I could just request death…would they oblige me?

It was an interesting question. At that moment, I heard Bella's heartbeat sputter. I jumped up and ran to her.

"Bella, come now, you're tired."

She shrugged off my arm, narrowly missing her head with the trowel. "I'm fine. I won't be bested by these weeds." She muttered something incoherent.

I ignored her and lifted her off the ground and carried her to the house, laying her gently on the sofa. She was sweating, though it wasn't a hot day outside. I frowned.

"I'll be right back. I'll get you some water." She waved me away, breathing deeply.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. The thoughts of the person in question had something to do with a package. Postman, I reasoned.

Then, two things hit me at the same time.

A pungent, familiar smell hit me at the same time a series of thoughts washed over me. And, second,

The house was quiet. So quiet that not even a heartbeat was heard.

Authors Note Zwei: Thank you to everyone who reads, reviews, etc. You're my hero! I've decided, since I'm just a freak like this, that I will share, with each chapter I post, a recommended book, band, and movie. Yay!

Book: The Historian (by Elizabeth Korosomething, its AMAZING, but a little long)

Movie: Tristan and Isolde (OMG. James Franco. !!!! James Franco shirtless. –double-!!!!! Its really good and very sad)

Band: The Decemberists! Yay! Listen to "The Mariner's Revenge Song" for a laugh.

Insert witty disclaimer here.


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